


Roots

by horrendoushaddock



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrendoushaddock/pseuds/horrendoushaddock
Summary: When Hector travels to Corona, intending to head Adira off and put a stop to her treason, he finds Varian instead. With Quirin trapped in the amber, and seeing himself as Varian’s next of kin, Hector does the only thing he can do: he takes Varian in. However, the son of Quirin is nothing quite like what he had expected him to be.





	Roots

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for @PENNUMBRA over on tumblr!

Word comes back to him that Adira has actually taken up her fool’s pursuit of the sundrop. He can understand her desire and the desperation to save the Dark Kingdom; some part of Hector wants for the same end. The Dark Kingdom is his home, after all, and seeing it become this ruined, corrupted wasteland has never sat well with him. But Edmund gave the Brotherhood very specific orders, and Hector has made it his life’s purpose to uphold the integrity of those words.

Was it not enough that Quirin, too, had gone soft over the years? The last he had heard, Quirin had started a family of his own, in the very kingdom where the sundrop flower was said to have bloomed. Hector sometimes liked to give the other man the benefit of the doubt and believed that Quirin was, in his own way, upholding King Edmnd’s wishes.

But if Adira has finally taken action of her own, then Hector feels compelled to put a stop to her. The idea of leaving the Great Tree unsettles him, but he also knows that the Tree can take care of itself. Even his bearcats seem hesitant to leave, but they follow him loyally and without much of a fuss.

The journey from the Tree to Corona will not be a particularly quick one, but he considers it well warranted, if it means putting a stop to Adira’s treachery.

If only she had left well enough alone.

———————————————————————————————————–

He arrives in what used to be Old Corona just a few weeks shy of Zhan Tiri’s storm. The village is nothing quite like what he had expected, wrought and ruined by the black rocks. There are no signs of life, though he can’t really blame the locals for having gone elsewhere. The Dark Kingdom’s people evacuated when the infestation grew out of control, too. Whole lives had been hastily and haphazardly uprooted to start again somewhere new and safe.

He doesn’t expect to find much as he makes his way through the disheveled village. As far as he can tell, Adira has not found her way this far yet. Though, with the literal pathway of black rocks leading to and from this old, ruined village, he doesn’t doubt she’ll find her way soon enough.

And he’ll be right here waiting for her, he decides. She has to go through this village to get to the kingdom, after all.

As he makes his way through the village, he finds his way toward one house in particular. The black rocks have pierced it’s stoop, and even the walls and roof have not been spared. It’s not in the best condition, but it’s in better shape than the rest of the village. In terms of temporary shelter, and a place to wait Adira out, he supposes he can’t really complain.

He kicks the door open, and though he’s confident there should be no life inside, he still takes a moment to peer in cautiously. One bearcat enters, and then the next, and he watches them both as they sniff at the air. One snorts, catching the scent of something that doesn’t settle well with it. It doesn’t back out, but it doesn’t quite press on, either. The other follows suit, hanging back and turning to look at Hector over its shoulder.

Hector raises an eyebrow, and moves in behind the two animals. There’s no denying that even he can smell something in the air. It’s faint, but acidic, sulphuric in its own way. Idly, he wonders what could be the cause, but he assumes as he moves further into the home, he’ll discover the source.

However, before he can get much farther, he’s greeted with a tripwire. The tripped trap sends a decently sized purple sphere toward him, but both he and his bearcats are quick to dodge it. There’s a small cloud of smoke as the sphere shatters on the floor not too far from where he had been standing. When the smoke clears, there’s a puddle of some sort of a strange purple substance.

One bearcat tentatively sniffs at the puddle, and then recoils at the smell of it. Whatever it is, the scent is too unnatural, too chemical for their liking. Hector wrinkles his own nose at it, and steps over the spill. A curious trap, but he doesn’t think much of it.

There isn’t very much to see as he moves deeper into the home - until he comes across a lab of some sort. There’s a multitude of vials and beakers and burners spread across a few tables, and the walls are covered in parchment full of scrawls that make little sense to Hector. But even more curious, is the formation in the middle of the room, hidden under a tarp. At first glance, he thinks that maybe it’s a cluster of black rocks that’s been covered, but then he catches a glimpse of something brighter.

He steps closer, and takes a fistful of the dark, heavy material, pulling it roughly away from whatever it was hiding. As the tarp falls away, Hector isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at - not at first, anyway. He sees the mass of amber, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. But even more shocking than the jagged and angry chunk of amber, is what’s inside it.

There, within the amber, is Quirin. There’s a page of parchment caught in one hand, and a cluster of black rocks is also encased in the amber with him. Looking around now, Hector can see a desk caught up in the amber’s tendrils, and a multitude of broken weapons littering the floor.

Hector likes to think that he’s very good at reading situations, that’s it come from years of serving the Dark Kingdom, and living in the Great Tree. But there isn’t much sense to be made of this predicament for him.

The bearcats creep closer to the strange mass, sniffing at it and trying to understand it themselves. They don’t recoil from it the way they did the purple goo, but they’re still cautious. Their inspection doesn’t last long, however, as another sound catches their attention. The bearcats give a low snarl, but Hector quiets them with a one-handed gesture. He’d heard the sound, too, and he suspects it to be nothing more than a lowlife making the best of a bad situation. Despite the state of this village, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were looters picking up whatever had been left behind.

As he makes his way through the home again, he expects to find some sort of rugged ruffian picking and choosing their way through whatever is left of Quirin’s life here. What he finds, however, is not even close to that.

The boy can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen, and when he sees Hector, his eyes widen considerably and a strangled yelp leaves his mouth. There’s some scrambling as he tries to grab for something nearby; Hector assumes he’s looking for some sort of weapon. He isn’t given the chance, though, and Hector is quick to reach out and too easily pluck the boy up off the floor by the collar of his shirt.

“Who are you?” Hector demands. “And what are you doing here?”

Gloved hands are clawing desperately at Hector’s wrist, but the older man’s grip isn’t faltering in the slightest. Maybe answering his question will loosen it.

“Varian!” Hector’s captive says quickly. “My name is Varian! And I live here!”

“You live here?” Hector repeats with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nobody lives here, boy. This village is dead.”

“I live here!” Varian argues, and in all of his squirming and efforts to get free, he catches a glimpse over Hector’s shoulder of the bared amber. His eyes widen again, and his efforts seem to double as he tries to get Hector to let him go. And it’s not so much that Hector is overpowered by him, but the reaction to the sight is curious, and so Hector lets him go. He all but drops Varian, and though the teenager struggles for a moment to gain his footing, he shoves his way right passed Hector and makes a beeline for the amber.

“No, no, no,” Varian mumbles, struggling to flip the discarded tarp back up and over the mass. “What do you want here?!” he asks soon after, and his voice cracks in a way that strikes Hector as curious.

“I’m waiting for someone,” is Hector’s reply, and then he nods toward the amber. “Do you know him?” He assumes Varian must; no stranger would be so concerned or protective.

“He’s my father!” Varian snaps back at Hector, turning to look at him once the tarp is in place again. He’s glowering, but Hector doesn’t seem to notice or particularly care about the boy’s upset.

“Your father?” he questions. He had known Quirin started a family of his own, but this boy isn’t quite what he expected as a son of the Brotherhood.

Varian doesn’t feel the need to repeat himself, and so he doesn’t. Instead, he finally takes in the sight of this stranger in his home. The longer he stares at him, the more unnerved he becomes, though he tries not to let it show. Whatever composure he managed to hold on to is gone the moment he finally sets eyes on the bearcats, though. He stumbles back, pressing his back to the covered amber. The bearcats, though curious, remain obediently behind Hector.

“Who are you?” Varian asks after a moment.

The answer to this question, Hector realizes, is long and complicated, and he doesn’t particularly care to go into those details right now. He returns Varian’s scrutinizing gaze, and finds himself sighing heavily. There had been no bad blood between himself and Quirin before they were made to leave the Dark Kingdom, and with the other trapped or worse, he feels almost obligated to at least try and help his son. It’s the least he can do.

“A friend of your father’s,” Hector says.

Perhaps using the word ‘friend’ when describing his relationship with Quirin was not in his best interest. That word alone had triggers an eagerness in Varian that Hector doesn’t expect. The boy’s hostility ebbs some, though Hector can still tell that he is on guard, and he can’t be blamed for that. Hector supposes that if he was in the boy’s shoes, he wouldn’t drop his guard completely, either.

However, that doesn’t stop Varian from asking him question after question. He wants to know how Hector and Quirin knew each other, for how long, and why hadn’t Quirin ever mentioned him before. And these are all very good questions that Hector, unfortunately, has no real desire answering at the moment.

Instead, he veers the conversation into, what he deems to be, a more suitable direction. He manages to hush Varian long enough to ask him what happened here and to Quirin. The question brings the rigidity back to Varian’s posture, and a hardness to his gaze as he looks anywhere but at Hector. He explains briefly, as to the point as he can manage.

A gloved hand is pressed against the amber when all is said and done. “It’s my fault,” he admits, but there’s hesitancy in his voice that’s hard for Hector to miss.

Hector isn’t a particularly kind man, but maybe it’s the ties that bind him to Quirin, and subsequently to Varian, that urge him on.

“Regardless,” he says, and he speaks slowly, carefully choosing his words, “I don’t think it’s in your best interest to stay here.”

“But - ” Varian starts to argue, but he’s cut off by a sweeping motion from Hector.

“These black rocks are dangerous, and there’s nothing you can do about that,” he says and nods toward Quirin’s encasement.

“No - no, that’s not true,” Varian counters, brow furrowing. “I just need more time to figure out what works, and…”

“And you can do that away from this place,” Hector insists.

Varian is reluctant, but he agrees. Hector makes a valid point when he says that things are only going to get worse for Corona, that staying put will do Varian more harm than anything. There’s also a stinging truth in that Quirin isn’t going to be going anywhere, either. Varian can, and should, work in a safer environment and return when he’s sure of a solution. Hector can tell that he doesn’t want to leave Quirin, but it’s a relief that Varian seems to understand. However he’s been surviving since this happened to his father, it can’t have been good for him.

When Hector informs Varian to be ready for a few weeks worth of travel at the very least, he’s more than a little surprised when the alchemist insists on making and packing them ham sandwiches.

———————————————————————————————————–

The sandwiches don’t last very long. They’re gone within a day and a half, and Hector is mildly impressed a spindly thing like Varian can eat so much. It goes without saying, though, that come dusk, any additional food needs to be caught or foraged for.

“I don’t expect you’d be any good at hunting?” Hector asks, and Varian offers him a sheepish sort of grin, shrugging one shoulder.

“I’ve never really had to before,” Varian admits. He can’t say whether or not he’d be good at it if he’s never actually gone hunting before. He likes to think that maybe he’d be a decent tracker. The thought of actually killing an animal, though, doesn’t settle too well with him.

Hector rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think so,” he mumbles, shoving his way passed the smaller body. “Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

Varian watches Hector and his bearcats as they wander away from the path they had been on and into the woods nearby. He doesn’t really know how long they’ll be, but for the time being he takes a seat on a nearby boulder. He’s never been this far away from Corona before, and he has to wonder where they are. There are no signs on the path Hector has chosen for them, and so all Varian really knows is that he’s neither here nor there.

In a way, it’s kind of exciting.

Getting away from home and from Corona as a whole, Varian realizes, has been and will be good for him. It hurts to leave Quirin behind, but it would have hurt more to stay there with him, just as stagnant, and festering in his own misplaced anger. Those feelings haven’t gone away entirely, not yet, but he’s had some time at least to understand that Rapunzel isn’t really at fault. Any initial resentment he had been feeling has begun to draw back.

And while these are bridges that will eventually have to be crossed, Varian isn’t quite ready to fully process and unpack the whole of that situation just yet. He’s already spent enough time mulling it over, and decides it’s probably best to distract himself somehow. Not that there’s a whole lot to distract himself with at the moment, but he does his best, wandering away from the boulder to inspect some flowers and shrubbery nearby.

Not a moment later, one of Hector’s bearcats pokes its head through the brush, and Varian lets out a shameless yelp as he tumbles back. Either Hector hunts very quickly, or he had spent more time lost in thought than he realized. He doesn’t question it, and instead focuses on trying to regain his composure as the bearcat walks passed him.

Hector soon follows, and gives the boy an eye-roll, snorting inwardly. “You’re going to have to get used to them,” he says.

Varian doesn’t reply, only lets out a little huff of his own while he stands up and brushes off the seat of his pants.

“Here,” Hector speaks and gets Varian’s attention again. “Make yourself useful.”

Varian doesn’t have time to answer before there’s something being tossed toward him. His instinct is to catch it, and he does, but he wishes he hadn’t.

There, in his hands and haphazardly pressed up against his chest, is a freshly killed rabbit. There’s blood on the poor thing’s fur, though he can’t quite tell where it’s coming from. Not that it really matters much, because he can feel his grip on it failing already.

The catch slides right out of his hands and to the ground with a thump. Varian’s knees give out a moment later, and he sinks to the ground with a weak groan.

Hector eyebrows raise and his mouth is slightly agape as he takes in the sight of the boy, crumpling to his knees and bracing himself against the ground. He doesn’t quite pass out, but he certainly looks like he’s on the verge of doing so.

Before Hector can ask what’s wrong, Varian manages a brief explanation of: “blood.”

Hector rolls his eyes again, and one of his bearcats collects the rabbit from the ground near Varian, bringing it back to its master.

“If blood bothers you that much, I suppose you’d want to know you got some on your shirt, then.”

“My shirt…?” Varian echoes, and against his better judgement, looks down at his chest. Sure enough, there’s the smallest smear of rabbit blood there.

And that’s all it takes.

Another whimper, and Hector can actually see Varian’s eyes flutter and roll back before he faints.

After this, Hector takes care to dress any game away from the camp. Or, at the very least, well out of Varian’s line of vision. Had Varian been anybody else, though, he would not have been so thoughtful. To make up for the slight inconvenience, Varian decides that the least he can do is forage and gather wild edibles. Ruddiger helps, some of the time.

Sooner rather than later, Varian also takes it upon himself to cook for them. Hector may be a very good hunter, but his cooking skills are less than desirable, in Varian’s opinion. And if he’s going to be travelling with this man for who-knows-how-long, he’d at least like to have food he can swallow, let alone stomach. Once the catches are skinned and cleaned, handling the raw meat isn’t too bad. No different than the cuts they had back home. Cooking over an open fire on a less than impressive skillet isn’t exactly what Varian’s used to, but he’d be lying if he were to say it isn’t any fun.

———————————————————————————————————–

Once, Hector catches himself watching Ruddiger as the raccoon rolls an apple along the ground. His contribution to Varian’s findings today, Hector supposes. How he has managed to withhold any comments on the animal thus far is beyond even him, but his patience is growing thin. Ruddiger doesn’t bring anything to the table, besides companionship for Varian.

And Hector doesn’t think that’s enough.

He grabs the apple away from the raccoon, ignoring the surprised and then dismayed chittering coming from the poor thing.

“Where did you even find this thing?” Hector asks, and nods in Ruddiger’s direction when Varian turns to look his way.

“Ruddiger?” Varian asks, oblivious to the apple thievery that had just taken place. “It’s kind of funny, actually. Back home, we had a bit of a… ” Here he pauses and offers Ruddiger a small and apologetic smile. “A pest problem. So, I set some traps, and I eventually caught him.”

Hector’s eyebrow is raised, so Varian knows he’s listening, but he looks less than thrilled by the story. Admittedly, it isn’t a very exciting one.

“Kinda couldn’t get rid of him after that,” Varian laughs a little, shrugging one shoulder. “But, he’s good enough company, so I can’t really complain.” 

“What good is he to you, though?” Hector asks, and pointedly takes a bite of the apple. Varian, still oblivious, doesn’t seem to notice the almost-scowl the raccoon gives the older man.

“What good…? Well, like I said, he’s good company, and - ”

“Besides that,” Hector rolls his eyes, and tosses the apple aside. It has a bite out of it, but that doesn’t stop Ruddiger from following after it. “What actual good is he?”

Varian’s brow furrows a little, trying to read Hector’s expression and intention. A knot starts to form in his stomach, but he tries to ignore it.

“He doesn’t have to prove himself to me or anything, you know. He’s just - he’s fine, just the way he is.”

Hector stands, and sneers visibly as Ruddiger comes trotting back with the apple in his mouth. “If you’re going to put in effort of handling a wild animal and keeping it as some sort of companion, why not aim for something more impressive, and let this fat little thing go free back into the wild?”

“What…?” Varian asks, and the knot is getting bigger, tighter. “No, I can’t do that.”

“I’m telling you, you’ll appreciate an animal of bigger and stronger stature, who knows how to do more than sleep and eat.”

Varian’s brow furrows, and he gestures vaguely toward Hector’s bearcats, laying not too far away from where they are right now. Their heads are raised and they’re watching this argument gradually unfold, but know better than to intervene. For now.

“I don’t - I don’t need something like them,” he says, and his gaze drops for just a moment down to Ruddiger. “He means a lot to me, and that’s what matters.”

“You say that now,” Hector scoffs, “but your tune may change when you learn that he’s of no real use to you.”

What happens next, happens so quickly that neither Varian or Hector really realize what’s going on until it’s over. But very suddenly, Hector is on the ground, and Varian is standing over him, arms outstretched and palms held up. He can still feel the fleeting, phantom sensation of Hector’s chest against them.

Even the bearcats can’t bring themselves to move right away.

Ruddiger, on the other hand, decides now is a great time to climb up to Varian’s shoulders, still holding onto the apple.

“He is of use to me,” Varian says in a tone Hector’s never heard him use before. It’s serious and stern, and there’s something of an edge to his voice that piques Hector’s intrigue.

He doesn’t necessarily understand Varian’s attachment to such a useless creature, but he decides it’s best not to question it any further. 

While the subject of Varian training another animal of any kind is never brought up again, Hector can’t help but notice how the boy seems to be warming up to his bearcats. It also doesn’t escape him that his bearcats don’t quite seem to mind a gentler form of affection.

When this journey had first started, Varian had been fairly wary of the animals, which Hector could understand. They were not the friendliest of beasts, and they were certainly no Ruddiger. The bearcats had only remained civil and respectful of Varian because Hector had clearly taken a shine to him. They weren’t normally so trusting of strangers, but they trusted Hector’s judgement. Though, as the days have bled into weeks, both Varian and the bearcats have gradually begun to gravitate toward one another.

Hector thinks the deal may have been sealed that first time he caught Varian feeding the bearcats scraps. They should have known better than to accept, but they certainly hadn’t refused then, and they don’t refuse now. No matter how many times Hector tells Varian not to do that, it’s very likely that he’ll catch him doing it again.

Worse things could happen, Hector supposes.

When Hector comes back to camp after hunting one evening, he’s more than a little surprised to find his bearcats already asleep. More surprising than that, though, is the way Varian is propped up against the two of them, Ruddiger in his lap. Both the boy and his raccoon are sound asleep, too.

Hector sighs and shakes his head, the faintest of smiles tugs at one corner of his lips. He lets them sleep, and walks away from the pile they’ve all made to skin and clean the catch of the night.

———————————————————————————————————–

Hector isn’t an introspective man. He sees things for what they are, and doesn’t often feel the need to delve much deeper than the surface. Even so, though, he finds himself watching Varian every now and then, typically Varian’s attention is entirely elsewhere. The boy is clumsy and a little bit more emotional than Hector had expected from Quirin’s son, but he’s also incredibly smart, and there’s no denying the loyalty to his own cause. He also finds himself appreciating Varian’s affinity toward animals; the boy spends more time with Ruddiger and the bearcats than he does with Hector sometimes. Hector can understand that.

Sometimes, Hector catches himself thinking that Varian reminds him of himself. Not a whole lot, but the few similarities they share are the ones that count. It makes relating to Varian a little easier.

Some of the time.

“When we get to the Dark Kingdom, do you think we’ll find something there that can help my dad?”

Hector’s lip visibly twitches and his eyes roll, but Varian’s back is to him so the alchemist doesn’t see. During the time they’ve been travelling together, Hector has had more than enough time to ponder Quirin’s problem. There’s a good chance that he’s still alive, simply in some sort of suspended animation. There’s an equally good chance that he’s suffocated and his corpse is being preserved in that unbreakable amber. He knows and he understands Varian’s drive to free him, but he wonders if the boy’s considered the grimmer of the possibilities at all.

“Hector?” Varian presses, and when Hector focuses his attention back to him, he realizes that Varian’s facing him now, and a lot closer than he had been earlier.

“In the Dark Kingdom itself, or in the Great Tree,” Hector says, brow furrowing as he speaks. “But are you really sure that’s what you want?”

Varian’s expression falls, and his brow furrows some. “Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I want to help him?”

“How long has he been in that amber, Varian?”

There’s a pause, and Hector watches as Varian visibly struggles with this question. It gradually dawns on Hector that Varian really hadn’t considered that Quirin may have already been dead.

He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m just saying, all of this may be for naught.”

“W-what - ?”

“He may already be dead.” Hector has never known how to be anything but blunt, and he doesn’t consider Varian’s much fragiler emotional state.

“No,” Varian says, and his voice cracks and Hector’s brows raise as he watches Varian’s eyes become glassy and wet. It doesn’t take long at all before the tears are rolling freely down his cheeks. Hector glances downward, if only because he notices that the other’s hands are clenched tightly into fists at his sides. By the time he looks back up to Varian’s face, his chest is heaving just a little as he tries to control his breathing.

One hand lifts, and Varian digs the heel of his palm into his eye, scrubbing tears away while dropping his own gaze.

“He’s not… He’s not d-dead, okay?” Varian mumbles, stumbling over the word ‘dead’ in a way he never had before. Death has always been unsettling, but he’s tried so hard not to think about Quirin that way.

Hector sighs inwardly, and he can’t quite bring himself to see things Varian’s way. Not to say he hasn’t been wrong before, but until proven so, there’s not much that can change his mind.

But Varian doesn’t need to know that.

He reaches out, dropping a heavy hand onto one of Varian’s shoulders. “Okay,” he agrees, and then uses that same hand to cup Varian’s cheek, giving a gentle pat. “Okay.”

———————————————————————————————————–

Just because Hector chooses the roads less traveled, does not always mean that they are safer. They manage to go for nearly a month without incident, but of course it’s only a matter of time before they run into some sort of trouble.

It comes in the form of a duo of would-be bandits. Varian’s walking a few feet ahead of Hector, and so they spot him first. They come out of the trees on either side of him, effectively halting him in his path. Thus far in their journey, they haven’t really run into any problems like this, and Varian is admittedly less than prepared. He has a few vials of chemicals in his satchel, and the small explosions their shattering would cause might buy him some time.

However, he doesn’t have time to reach for them, and the bandits, in turn, have hardly any time to advance. Hector makes himself known, stepping into their view, along with his bearcats.

“Is there a problem?” he asks.

Varian wastes no time in backing up, even bumping into Hector as he does. Hector does little more than encourage him to step to the side, so that he can step forward.

“There don’t have to be,” says one of the bandits. The other reaches into one of his pockets, producing a dagger with a crooked and nicked blade.

Hector’s brow raises as he eyes the dagger, hardly impressed; mostly amused. “And I suppose you’re going to use that to ensure there’s no problem?”

“Consider it a sort o’ persuasion,” the bandit with the dagger replies. He gives it a little toss into the air, catching it by the handle expertly. Hector thinks that maybe he’s supposed to be impressed. He isn’t.

“Don’t give us no trouble, an’ we don’t give either o’ you any, either,” the other bandit coaxes. 

“No trouble at all, I assure you,” Hector says, and unsheathes the blade from his wrist. The bearcats begin a gradual approach, too.

The bandits look taken aback by the blade, and a little unnerved by the animals coming closer, but they stubbornly stick it out. This doesn’t surprise Hector; men like them are not often very intelligent. Their need for money and valuables often outweigh logic and reason.

Before either bandit can lunge or lash out, Hector moves forward, as do the bearcats. Varian watches in nothing short of awe as Hector too easily gets the upperhand on both of these men, knocking the dagger from one’s hand, and throwing the other to the ground. The bearcats help pin the downed man, and Hector presses the very tip of his blade to the other’s throat while holding the collar of his shirt with his free hand.

He cocks his head to one side, and gives the man a crooked grin. “Like I said, no trouble.”

“N-no t-trouble,” the man agrees, trying lean away from the blade as much as he can. Hector’s grip is tight, though, and doesn’t allow for much room. Common sense seems to kick in, and he realizes if he struggles too much, Hector could easily pull him forward.

“Good,” Hector says, and shoves the man back, retracting his blade and calling his bearcats off with a single snap of his fingers. Hector doesn’t need to tell them to leave, they scramble away as quickly as they can manage.

Sighing, Hector turns back toward Varian, looking the boy over. He’s all wide-eyed and fish-mouthed, and Hector wonders if maybe the spectacle frightened him. In their time together, Varian hasn’t even seen Hector hunt, nevermind actually fight. And, granted, if Varian hadn’t been there, the men wouldn’t have been lucky enough to be able to run away.

“Are you alright?” Hector asks, eyebrow raising.

Varian nods, and then slowly breaks out into a wide smile. “That was amazing!” he gushes, even flailing his arms a little. “You’re just like Flynnigan Rider - well, almost. Close enough!”

“Who?” Hector asks, brow furrowing.

Soon enough, he clearly wishes he hadn’t. Varian has a lot - perhaps too much - to say about this Flynnigan Rider character. He goes on and on about the books he has at home, and even how excited he had been to meet someone who used to go by that name. At one point, he even lets it slip that he had nothing short of a shrine full of Flynnigan Rider memorabilia, including wanted posters and even the man’s boot.

Hector, personally, can’t see any similarities between himself and the fictional man, or the one who stole the name. What he does get from all of this hero-worship nonsense, though, is that Varian certainly has a flair for swordfighting, as highlighted by the way he picks up a stick and starts to carelessly swing it around while he speaks.

And that gives Hector an idea.

So, when Hector offers to teach Varian how to use a real sword, Varian would be the first to admit that his expectations were nothing like the reality of the situation. The sword Hector procures for him is much heavier than any of the ones at home, even the one he had rigged with tubes and vials. It takes practice to even be able to hold the thing properly. Doing so without his arms getting tired is another story all together.

Once he’s able to actually hold the sword with some sliver of confidence, Hector quickly moves on to teaching how to use it. And, of course, Hector’s teaching method is very hands on and no holds barred. More often than not, Varian is left bruised and sore after their lessons. The flair he had for swinging a stick around doesn’t transfer over well to actual swordsmanship, but he’s determined to learn at the very least.

Over time, Varian’s hand becomes steadier, his footing more reliable. His movements don’t quite mimic Hector’s when all is said and done, but what counts is that he can finally match and block them when he has to.

He’s nowhere near besting Hector, or even just knocking a sword from his hands, but progress is progress and Hector is proud nonetheless.

———————————————————————————————————–

Left to his own devices while Hector hunts, Varian usually finds one way or another to pass the time, assuming he has no actual chores to tend to. Sometimes he sketches or scribbles in a journal. Other times, he’ll busy himself with Ruddiger, or practice with his sword against a tree. Today, however, he finds that he’s idly drawn to the idea of Hector’s face paint. It’s something that’s always intrigued him, even though it’s such a miniscule detail when compared to everything else about Hector.

He uses some of the things he’d already had gathered and some fresh clay, grinding them up into a reddish sort of paste. Once that’s ready, he uses his sword as a mirror while he figures out just how to apply it to his own face. Carefully, he starts by painting a thick band across the bridge of his nose.

Pleased with that, and deciding it couldn’t hurt to experiment a little more, he splits the alchemical symbol for tin under each eye. The left gets the upward curve, the right gets the down.

The longer he stares at his reflection, the more he thinks he likes it. Maybe he’ll adjust the height and width of the band, but overall, he’s pleased with his handiwork. So much so, that he doesn’t even notice peering over his shoulder and smirking at his reflection until its too late. The fingertips Varian had pressed to his cheek jerk, and he ends up smearing the paint across his nose and down along one cheek as he fumbles his way around to face Hector.

Hector snorts, the closest to a laugh Varian’s ever heard from him. He squats down and grabs the boy by the chin, turning his face this way and that, admiring the work - even if it is smeared.

“It’s a good look for you,” he comments, before letting Varian go and standing. “Try not to smudge it next time.”

———————————————————————————————————–

It takes a few weeks more for the pair and their animals to reach the Tree, but when they do, Varian is in nothing short of awe.

“This is where you live?!”

“You’ll get used to it,” Hector replies as he leads the boy inside. “For now, don’t touch anything unless I tell you to.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Hector can practically see Varian’s excited energy radiating off of him. The Tree is impressive, but it has long since lost that charm for Hector. It is kind of amusing, though, to see someone else so genuinely thrilled by its existence.

“But - wait a minute,” Varian says suddenly, brow wrinkling. “I thought we were going to the Dark Kingdom?”

“Eventually,” Hector tells him, motioning for him to keep walking along behind him. “For now, we wait here.”

“Wait? Why?”

“I’m expecting someone,” Hector replies, and leaves it at that. He’ll offer no more and no less, Varian can tell that by his tone.

“Alright,” Varian says quietly, and Hector can tell there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice. He can’t blame the boy; he had promised to take him to the Dark Kingdom, and now here they are, playing a waiting game in the Great Tree. They will get there, though. Varian just needs to work on his patience.

“You know…” Hector starts, and his voice is a lot quieter than Varian is used to hearing. It piques his interest, but he waits quietly for Hector to continue.

“You’ve come a long way. Literally, and otherwise. And it may have been a long time since I’ve seen your father, so I may not be the best judge of character, but…”

There’s a small pause, and Varian wonders for a moment if Hector is going to finish the thought. His eyes search Hector’s back frantically, as though it somehow holds even a hint of what the other could be thinking.

He steps closer, until he’s walking at Hector’s side, and able to peer up at his face.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly. “But… What?”

Hector’s expression is soft for only a moment. “I think he would be proud of you.”


End file.
